


we could be immortals

by bukkunkun



Series: RyouMarx Week 2k16 [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Acceptance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Memories, Recovery, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Writing, honestly this is really touching for some reason, wow ok this kinda made me cry kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(just not for long, for long)</p><p>They said that in stories, you could do whatever you want. </p><p>In stories, you could live forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we could be immortals

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ryoumarx week day 4: Change/Immortal!
> 
> I'M LATE HAHAHAH RIP BUT ANYWAY HERE WE GOOOOOOOO so if the first fic is Conquest divergence with a female Ryoma, this one is a Birthright divergence with a female Xander. And the ship people had been hoping to happen, Ryoma/Scarlet!
> 
> Iirc, Ryoma's quite the writer (love letters to his spouse wHOOO) so I'd like to think he's really good at not only calligraphy but also writing. Particularly prose and poetry. :^) a headcanon of mine was he used to tell stories to Shiro that he made himself, aw
> 
> so, yeah. this is actually rather wholesome. for once.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~expect intense porn for the next prompt day huehuehue~~

_I took her hand in mine, and she gave me a sad smile._

_“How could I ever forgive myself?” She asked, “I killed her, struck her down with my own hand.”_

_“Let time heal you,” I told her, and I pressed a kiss to her knuckles, my other hand pressing gently against the swell of her belly, heavy with child—_ my _child. “Let us heal you. Princess Elise would have wanted that for you.”_

_I kissed her lips next, just gently, and she sighed against my lips as I held her close. I tangled my fingers in her beautiful blonde hair, and I breathed deeply, inhaling the elegant scent of Nohrian roses and the starch of our bed on her skin._

_“She's already forgiven you. Please, you have to forgive yourself.”_

_“Ryoma, I…”_

_“Xandria.” I kissed her again, laying her gently back on the bed, and in the moonlight, her naked body practically glowed. “Live on for her. For me. For our child.”_

They said that in stories, you could do whatever you want.

_“With this ring, I take you as my lady and wife.”_

_She was crying behind the veil that hid her beautiful face, sheer joy overflowing her heart and spilling from her eyes._

_“With this ring, I take you as my lord and husband.”_

_She slipped the ring onto my finger, and I felt like a new man._

In stories, you were the god of your own little world.

_Nohr and Hoshido retained their good relations even during the concubine wars. With Queen Katerina’s determination and wit, she managed to survive the attack on her on the Stairway to Heaven, and wrangled the unruly concubines into submission, quelling the war before it grew out of hand._

_The relations between the two kingdoms were bolstered even further when its two kings decided to engage their crown prince and princess to each other, sealing a powerful alliance for years to come._

_Xandria and I met as childhood friends, and our friendship grew into the best of friendships, and best of all, deep understanding and love._

In stories, you could choose who would die or who would live.

_“Elise! Oh, gods…!”_

_“Sakura, hurry!” I barked, and she rushed to the Nohrian princess as fast as she could, waving her sun festal over her, and much to our relief, the wound in her chest closed up alongside the sound of Elise’s weak scream of pain._

_Xandria hugged her sister close, sobbing and shaking, Siegfried clattering to the ground, forgotten in her relief of an unforgivable sin averted._

_“Elise,” she sobbed, “Elise, you're…”_

_“Big… sister…” Elise smiled through the pain of her body knitting itself back together, and Corrin fell to their knees in relief, tears running down their face as the Yato fell to the ground beside them._

_Elise was going to be okay._

In stories, you could live forever.

_“It's beautiful, isn't it?” Her voice was as warm as ever, but it didn't lose the love in it, even through all the years we lived together. “The meteor shower is rather lovely high up here. It’s a little hard to come here, but it’s so worth it.”_

_I took her hand in his and kissed it, smiling against the warmth of her skin._

_“I could see only starlight.”_

_I had been looking at only her. The way she smiled up at the sky, at the world falling gently around us slow and steady like the first drops of rain, or the fall of honey from the jar._

_It’d been years, and we grew old together, and I still could not get enough of her._

_Xandria—_

“Big brother?”

He looked up at the sound of a timid little voice, his calligraphy brush stopping mid-character of her name, and he turned to see Sakura meekly peering inside his study. He gave her a smile, putting his brush down into its holder and went up to meet her halfway inside.

“Sakura,” he said warmly. “What brings you here?”

“I’ve brought you your dinner.” She mumbled, and he gave her a pat on the head.

“Oh, thank you.” He nodded, “I hadn’t realised it had gotten that late. Come inside.”

Sakura looked hesitant, struggling to find what to say, before she blurted out, “Big brother Ryoma, it’s been two days.”

He paused at that, blinking slowly. “... Has it?” He asked, dread clawing at his gut and he turned to look at the calendar on his wall. He peered at it owlishly, suddenly unsure of what he was staring at, and Sakura coughed softly.

“It’s… Thursday today, big brother. Tomorrow you get back to work.”

Oh, that was right. It was the fifth anniversary of the Hoshidan-Nohrian war, and the celebrations for it lasted a week. As king of Hoshido, this was the only time of the year he could relax, stop working for a while, until the festivities come to an end at the end of the week, where he and King Leo would host one final banquet (this year it was at Hoshido) and signal the end of festivities.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Ryoma chuckled softly. “My, how time flies.”

Sakura had followed him inside then, taking a seat beside him at his desk where he was writing. He took from her the tray of food: grilled fish, rice and shiro miso soup (Takumi was holding reign over the kitchen today, it seemed) and after a quick bless, tucked into his meal. She sat there, quietly watching him eat, and he peered at her, before chuckling gently.

Swallowing a bite of food, he decided to speak. “What’s the matter, Sakura?”

“You’ve been writing again.” She said softly, and Ryoma looked down at the paper she had been reading. His smile slid off his face.

He sighed deeply. “Sakura, there is very little I ask of my siblings, and this is one of them.” He put the bowl down on the tray, and after making sure the ink was dry on the paper, shut the book he was writing in gently. “Please do not read those.”

“But big brother—”

“Sakura, please. I don’t want an argument.”

Sakura took a sharp breath, and Ryoma knew she was getting ready to say something she didn’t want to.

She was going to say something he didn’t want to hear, either.

Ever since the war Sakura had matured greatly. Corrin had been a good influence on her, he thought. She was no longer that heavy a stutterer, nor was she allowing others to talk over her. Sakura grew a spine, of sorts. Was more honest with herself, with others. She spoke her mind more often now, and he couldn’t be prouder of her.

He also couldn’t be more exasperated of her.

“Big brother, please. I love your stories, the way you write so beautifully, both in word and calligraphy, but—”

“ _Sakura_.”

“Princess Xandria is dead.”

The ball dropped, heavy and hard between them like tension primed and ready to break, and Ryoma’s hand balled into a fist.

“She’s been dead for five years now. Please, for all of our sakes, make a change and move on.” Sakura continued, her mouth running a mile a minute and panic was clear on her face. “No amount of wishing or stories can bring her back.”

_In stories, you could live forever._

In _his_ stories, _she_ could live on.

“Do not take this away from me, Sakura, please.” Ryoma’s voice rarely quivered, but here it shook like paper in an earthquake. “I loved her—”

“But she isn’t around to love you back—”

“I _loved_ her!” He never, _never_ wanted to raise his voice at any of his siblings, but five years on, still grieving, still denying, still holding on to the memory of her for dear life, Ryoma did what he thought unthinkable. He recoiled immediately as the words left his mouth, shock in Sakura’s eyes mirroring the expression in his own eyes, and he deflated. “Sakura, I… forgive me.”

The redhead stood up, shaking her head as tears pooled in her eyes, and she hurried out of the room. Ryoma sighed deeply, running his hand down his face as he slumped down back to the ground, his meal forgotten, his appetite ruined before it even returned.

He loved her, he said.

She wasn’t around to love him back, she said.

At least one of them was telling the truth.

(He knew who it was; and it wasn't him.)

He groaned, sighing deeply as he tenderly opened his book again to look at its pages, all covered with his writing of lives he never lived, of the life she could have lived, of lives they could have lived together.

_“Ryoma, I love you.” She smiled at me tenderly, as I held her close in my arms, the cold of winter around us nothing compared to the warmth we shared beneath our sheets. Between us her pregnant stomach pressed gently against mine, and we could feel our son’s kick in her womb together. She giggled, and I just had to kiss her. “Shiro loves you too.”_

_“And I love you both.” I said._

He buried his face in his hands. Why were the gods so cruel as to take her from him?

“Dad?”

A familiar voice shook Ryoma out of his misery to see a head of blond hair approaching him through the haze of the tears that gathered in his eyes. He wiped at them with the sleeve of his kimono to see Shiro approaching him, the gold in his hair so familiar to _hers_ it broke his heart and put it back together again at the sight of it.

Every time he looked at Shiro, he was reminded of her. Of what he could have had.

Shiro looked uncomfortable, rubbing his arm awkwardly as he approached his father. He was still so young; five years old and living in the comfort and joy of a life after war, innocence still in his eyes and smile. Shiro gave him hope; hope of a happy and bright future for Hoshido, one free from war against Nohr or any other kingdom, what with Nohrian blood running through his veins.

“Dad, are you okay?” He asked gently, “Aunt Sakura went running out of here crying and when I asked her what was wrong she couldn’t answer me.” He approached his father, climbing into his lap as he always did, small hands balling in fists at the ends of Ryoma’s messy, long hair to hug his father’s chest. “And then you’re crying.”

“Oh, Shiro.” Ryoma sighed, hugging his son close to stroke his blond hair. “... Shiro.”

His mother, Scarlet, decided to stay in Nohr to rebuild Cheve. Recovery was difficult in a land as deprived of blessings as Nohr, so she rarely got to see her husband and son. Still, Ryoma loved her dearly, but not the same way she loved him.

She was a good friend. A good mother to Shiro.

_But she wasn’t Xandria._

“Dad, is this about the stories you’re writing?” Shiro asked, turning around to look at the book Ryoma had left open. “I like those. Even if some of them are really gross.” The boy pulled a face. “You wrote kissy books. I like the ones where the prince gets to fight stuff with the princess!”

Ryoma couldn’t help but laugh. Shiro’s innocence was really something else.

It made him miss the days when he was as blissfully unaware as his son was now.

“Yeah, I should make more stories like that, don’t you think, Shiro?” He replied, adjusting Shiro to sit on his lap properly, and the boy cheered his agreement. “Why don’t you help me with my next project?”

“You bet! Mom’s gonna love this!” Shiro cheered, getting his own brush from Ryoma’s collection as Ryoma opened up another page for them to start on.

His smile dropped in lustre for a moment, and he sighed.

“Yes, she would.”

Scarlet knew how he felt about Xandria. She knew _everything_ about him. And yet, she stayed. Ryoma didn’t deserve her, as much as she didn’t deserve him.

“Man, Aunt Sakura must be just jealous you write so good, Dad!” Shiro huffed, watching Ryoma write in neat characters along the side a new title for a story. “Don’t let that make you cry.”

“I’ll do my best.” Ryoma replied easily, patting Shiro’s head. “And it’s ‘write so _well_ ’, Shiro. I see you haven’t been taking your language lessons quite to heart.”

“I like sparring better!” Shiro huffed, watching as Ryoma wrote his name at the bottom of the title. “Can I put my name on it too?”

“Of course,” Ryoma chuckled, “Carefully, now. Write your characters neatly.”

Shiro nodded, brow creased in as much concentration as a five-year-old could muster, and wrote down his name in slightly large and shaky characters beneath his father’s small and neat ones. “I think I did good.”

“‘Well’, Shiro,” Ryoma corrected out of reflex, but he kissed his son’s hair. “But yes, you did. Can you read the title for me?”

“I think so?” Shiro cocked his head. “The… Fire… Em… blem…?” He ventured, pouting deeply at the last few sets of characters. “Dad, I can't read the last ones.”

“Conquest.”

“What's that mean?” Shiro asked.

“Taking over a land.” Ryoma replied.

The boy in his lap gasped. “So the bad guys win?”

“Yes, the princess defeats the prince this time around.” Ryoma explained mildly, as he began to write.

_Change is a reversible process met with protest and pain._

“Aw, but why?” Shiro whined. “Why would you wanna let the prince lose? He's a lot like you, dad!”

“Because, Shiro, not everyone wins all the time.” He patiently explained.

_It is bloody, hurtful in heart and body, resistance strong at first like unyielding dams against the barrage of floodwater._

“Aw.” Shiro pouted, unable to understand half of what his father was writing, but he tried to read it anyway. “Can't I do anything to stop it?”

“Now, that's a thought.” Ryoma chuckled. “Try writing the next line.”

“Can… you, um.” Shiro blushed. “Read it to me first? I can't understand some characters.”

Ryoma’s heart swelled with affection, but read the few sentences aloud for Shiro to understand.

“Okay, um…”

_But when it's over, things turn out for the best. You remember lessons you've learned and people you met, and that's what matters in the end._

Shiro’s handwriting was messy, large, the scrawl of a child, and the language simplistic, but Ryoma’s heart broke all the same.

_Change isn't so bad. Sometimes change is what you need. And even if it does happen, some things don't change, and that's okay._

“How's that.” Shiro huffed, sounding proud of himself, only to jump when Ryoma pulled him into a tight hug. His eyes widened when he felt wetness at his shoulder, and he hugged his father back, unsure. “... Dad?”

“How are you so much wiser than your sad old man, Shiro?” He murmured warmly, hugging his son close. “Look at me, sobbing like a child in my child’s arms.”

“I don't think that's bad.” Shiro replied honestly, “I mean. Mom cries about you a lot sometimes, when she knows you're not looking.”

Ryoma jolted, pulling away to look at his son, bewildered.

“She tells me that's because you don't ever change. And that's a good thing, sometimes.” He said. “She said a lot of bad stuff happened to you, much worse than she could imagine, but despite it all, you were still you.”

Ryoma cupped Shiro’s face in his hands. “Scarlet… she…”

“Mom doesn't hate you.” Shiro shook his head. “She feels really sorry for you, though. Because while it's a good thing you've never changed, you also don't wanna?” He cocked his head. “Dad, why don't you wanna change?”

He didn't want to forget her.

He was… _afraid_ he would forget Xandria.

“I…” He sighed deeply. “Shiro, a long time ago, your father fell in love with someone.” He lowered his hands to Shiro’s shoulders. “She was beautiful, strong, and smart. And she had golden hair, just like you do.”

Shiro scowled. “Ew, is this a kissy story?”

Ryoma had to laugh a little. “Not really. It's a very sad story, actually.”

Shiro’s scowl softened to a frown. “Huh, how come?”

“Your father loved her dearly, Shiro, sometimes more than his life, but then a war happened, and she and I became sworn enemies.”

Shiro’s expression fell. “Aw, dad…”

“Her name was Xandria, and she was a woman I could never forget.” He sighed. “From the first time she smiled at me, to the way she cried the moment she died.”

“She's dead?” Shiro looked ready to cry. “Was she supposed to be my mom?”

“I wouldn't know, Shiro.” He kissed the boy’s temple. “I never knew if she loved me back.”

(She did, Leo would tell him much later on, but by then Ryoma’s heart would no longer break.)

“... Oh.” Shiro deadpanned. “Um. Do you love mom?”

“Of course I do.” Ryoma assured him. “And I love you very much, too, Shiro.”

The boy grinned up at him toothily. “For a second there, dad, I thought you didn't.” He cuddled up against his father and sighed. “Is that why Aunt Sakura was upset with you?”

“Yes.” Ryoma admitted quietly. “I don't blame her.”

“But it's not your fault too, dad,” Shiro defended, and Ryoma chuckled, stroking his hair. “You were sad she died. Mom said people do stuff they don't mean when they were sad.”

“Not for five years, they don't.”

Shiro pulled away from him to pout at him. “So what if it takes you a little longer than most people? Didn't you tell me what mattered was that you tried anyway?”

Ryoma laughed bitterly. “Do you think that applies to this as well, Shiro?”

“Yeah, it's gotta.” Shiro shrugged. “It's not that hard.”

It is, he wanted to say, life isn't as easy as you thought it was.

“And it's not like you'll forget Xandria.” Shiro paused, “Didn't you say you could never forget her? Do I have to call her mom too? That'd be weird.”

Ryoma stopped at Shiro’s words.

Moving on from Xandria was different from forgetting her, right?

Azura had told him about it once, and Shigure, the only evidence of her existence, lived with the same principle. He lost both his family, after all. Kaze, and Azura, and what could have been his little sister, Midori.

People lived on in other people’s memories. Through the hearts you've touched, you become immortal in their memories, in the memories of you they shared with others.

Xandria lives on in Leo’s heart. In Camilla's heart, wherever she was right now in the world. Elise is right there with her as well.

Xandria was in Corrin’s heart, too. In the swing of their blade, in their crafty war tactics.

Xandria was in his heart, too. So long as he loved her, thought about her.

There was no need to coop himself up in his thoughts for so long. Xandria wouldn’t have wanted that. Not when he had so much more to live for. Not when he could still remember her in more than just his stories.

In his decisions. In his words. In the way he ruled his nation, the way she would have ruled hers.

He could never forget a woman like Xandria.

“How are you so wise, my son?” He murmured warmly, hugging Shiro close, and the boy stopped mid-rant about having two mothers and the confusion that would bring.

“Dad?”

“You're right. I won't forget her.” He said softly, “In my memories, she’ll never die.”

Shiro blinked. “I don’t really get it, but I’m glad to see you smiling like that.” He smiled up at his father, and Ryoma kissed his nose. “Does that mean we can have a happy ending for the prince in the story?”

“You know what,” Ryoma chuckled, tearing the paper out, and dipping his brush into ink anew. “He should.”

He started a new title, and father and son wrote together until dawn rose upon them. Scarlet found them curled up together, Shiro burrowed into Ryoma’s kimono with ink stains on their hands, fast asleep, and she chuckled softly to herself.

“I come back home to this,” She sighed, stroking Ryoma’s hair and tucking a lock of it behind his ear. “What a wonderful sight.”

She looked down at Ryoma and Shiro’s work together, and she smiled softly.

_“Goodbye.”_

_And so the prince finally let go of the princess’s hand, and she flew high, high up into the night sky. He remained on earth to rule the land left to him by his father, and she looked down upon him from her place in the heavens, among the stars they loved dearly._

_And the both of them were content._

_(And they lived happily ever after!)_

She knew enough Hoshidan to understand the story, easily pinpointing Shiro’s parts with the messy handwriting. Shiro wrote the last line, a sweet, childish little addition after Ryoma’s elegant finish, and she kissed their foreheads. The brush of her lips stirred Ryoma into waking, and he smiled upon seeing her face.

“Scarlet.” He warmly said, and she chuckled softly when Shiro mumbled something in protest as Ryoma moved him to a more comfortable position. “When did you arrive?”

“Just now.” She replied, “I wanted to see the end of the festival, in the very least, and I come home to find the two of you here cuddled up like this. That’s quite the treat for me.”

Ryoma chuckled, “Shiro insisted we wrote something together.”

“I saw.” Scarlet chuckled. “Sakura told me you holed up in your room again.”

“Not anymore,” Ryoma told her firmly, and she smiled a little at that. “A little someone convinced me that a little change could take me a long way.” He gestured at the sleeping boy in his arms.

“Oh, Shiro,” She chuckled fondly, only to jump slightly when Ryoma leaned up to kiss her. “Ryoma?” she breathed, red dusting her cheeks.

“Scarlet, I’m so sorry for hurting you.” He told her sincerely. “I’d been so hung up on Xandria for so long… I neglected my wife, and my son.”

“You were grieving.” Scarlet smiled sadly, but Ryoma shook his head.

“That was no excuse, and you know it. Xandria wouldn’t have wanted me to mourn her for that long.” He took her hand, and pressed it against his cheek. “If you will be willing to, Scarlet, will you let me have another chance at our marriage? At making it up to you?”

Her eyes welled with tears. “I’m always willing for your second chance.” She said, and she pulled him into a warm hug. “Thank you.”

He hugged her tightly, Shiro sandwiched between them, but the boy slumbered on. Over Scarlet’s shoulder, Ryoma saw a figure in the dim light of the cracking dawn, filtering through the paper doors.

Xandria, smiling at him warmly, a tear rolling down her cheek.

His eyes widened, and her phantom cocked her head slightly.

_“Thank you, Ryoma.”_

He heard her voice in his head, and with a blink of his eyes, she was gone. He smiled back at where she stood, before burying his face in the crook of Scarlet’s neck, and shed his last tears for her.

Change was coming, he thought, but Xandria’s life would not end here.

She would live on forever, so long as no one ever forgot her.

And Ryoma never will.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i'm trying to bingo the whole shindig
> 
> Xander/Fem!Ryoma  
> Fem!Xander/Fem!Ryoma  
> Ryoma/Xander  
> Ryoma/Fem!Xander
> 
> i got it all huehue


End file.
